


In Shallows and In Miseries

by shakespearespaz



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie tries to make sense of at least one relationship in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Shallows and In Miseries

Charlie wasn’t an idiot.

She knew about the birds and the bees and what exactly Maggie had been doing in her father’s life. Sex wasn’t hard to find in this world; the long, dark winter evenings providing ample time for trysts between two people who might otherwise never have looked at each other twice. And then there was always lust, and companions for your bed for sale on every corner.

Charlie had never been one to idolize love like society had before.

There were books that could have romanticized it for her, but she was a child with a practical interest so unlike both her parents, preferring to build a fort or play outside than stay in with a novel. With movies gone and her rolling her eyes soon enough at the fairy tales preformed for the younger kids in their small town, she’d missed that part of her childhood.

That didn’t mean she didn’t know what love was.

She’d watched people connect amidst tragedy and loneliness. She knew that Maggie had brought a smile to her father’s face as much he had brought life back to her. There was no one true love, no soul mate, not when the Blackout had ripped so many apart. There were just people surviving, grasping onto whoever reached back in the dark to catch them.

Her mother and her uncle had history, she knew. Even without someone whispering the foreboding words in her ear—“don’t you know what he did to her?”—she could see it.

It was evident in the way Rachel slid closer to him at the campfire, or turned away with a cold shoulder if his hands wandered too close. It manifested itself in the close watch Miles kept on her, his eyes glistening in the candlelight, forlorn, angry, guilty.

Tender had never been a word she would’ve used to describe Miles, but when she accidentally witnessed him leaving a gentle kiss on her mother’s lips as they went together for water one day, that was all she could think of.

Charlie didn’t know how to feel and evidently neither did Rachel, her hand dancing down the sleeve of Miles’ jacket to push his arm in a reminder towards the containers of water.

She should’ve been furious and stormed out of her hiding place behind a tree, demanding that they reveal their desperately secret story to her. But she’d grown mature enough to know that she would only be hurting them further. Whatever had happened between them was privileged and as much as it irked her, she had to trust that they both loved her enough to one day tell her.

If she could forgive her father for seeking comfort and peace in another woman’s bed, then she could forgive her mother too. Why it was Miles would need some explanation.

After the Tower incident they’d headed west, stopping on the edge of the Plains Nation before they continued their trek to the California Commonwealth. As the Wasteland neared, it was easy to find an abandoned house to borrow for the night and they split up into rooms to sleep.

Rachel bunked with Charlie, but not so discreetly left in the middle of the night to pad softly down the hall. She would’ve snickered at the thought of her mother making a booty call, but everyone in their group knew it was a common occurrence.

Besides, she doubted that they did much; Charlie’s guess was that after Rachel held her daughter close for most of the sleepless hours, she wanted to be held too.

Charlie didn’t think peeping into their room was really spying, not when they had left the door half open.

They still had a candle burning and in the small orb of light it produced she could see them.

Rachel was curled on her side, head resting on Miles’ shoulder and Charlie watched her uncle’s fingers arrange then rearrange loose curls on the pillow. Her mother’s eyes drifted open and shut, on the verge of sleep but not quite there.

She heard her distant voice spout some scientific mutterings. Apparently Miles found it incomprehensible too, because his inaudible response was dry and sharp.

Her mother’s giggle, a sound so foreign her daughter wondered if she’d ever even heard it before, broke through the hazy dark. A smile teased at Charlie’s mouth; at least someone thought he was funny.

That was when Miles noticed her standing in the dim light of the doorway.

“Charlie?” his raspy voice called to her.

Rachel was awake instantly.

“Charlie? Is something wrong?” She sat up straight in the bed. “Are you okay?”

“No-no…I just…” She decided to screw it. “What is this? How are—what happened? Just…how?”

She looked at both desperately.

“Charlie—Charlie, come here?” Her mother was so, well, motherly.

She cautiously moved from the door, balancing on the edge of the bed as Rachel pulled her into a tight embrace.

Charlie watched Miles over her mother’s shoulder. As she felt uneven bumps through Rachel’s thin night clothes, Charlie was reminded of the scars she’d glimpsed across her mother’s back and stomach.

“What did you do to her?” she demanded of the solemn figure watching them.

“I—”

Miles lost his words, waiting until Rachel turned her face back to him. He read her hint of a nod clearly.

“I used her. In ways no one should,” came out with difficulty.

“And?” Charlie prompted crossly.

“And I’m sorry. And I’m trying to make it up to her.” He sighed. “To both of you.”

“By sleeping with her?”

“No, Charlie.” Rachel shook her head. “Sometimes I need—I—we’ve both done terrible, terrible things, together and apart.”

She took Charlie’s face between her worn hands, like she used to do when she was a child.

“We don’t want anyone else to share that burden.”

Charlie pulled away from the thumbs stroking her cheeks maternally.

“Is that why you still won’t give me any details? ‘I used her’? What kind of an answer is that, Miles?” she spit back at the two adults.

“Charlie—” Her mother’s voice had grown a sharp edge. “He won’t tell you because I don’t want him to.”

“Why not?”

She bit back the tears beginning to sting. They were finally getting to the point, but Charlie could only sustain her frustration and anger for so long.

“Because it’s _my_ pain, Charlie. Monroe—and Miles—they left me that much. And I decide who gets to suffer with me. Miles—I let him go there and we help each other. But I never, _never_ , want you in that place with me. Okay?”

Charlie tried to nod.

She wasn’t sure how her cheeks went from dry to damp without pause, but the next thing Charlie knew she was pressed against her mother’s softness, moving with her deep sobs, and Miles’ clunky hand was stroking her hair, and hushed apologetic words vibrated in the throat above her, but all she could see through the wet drops that rolled down her face were white, rumpled sheets and the heavy air saturated with dust overpowered the warmth of the two bodies that held her and Charlie realized that she could never remember a time when her family wasn’t defined by the distance and the secrets and the tears between them.

Why should this time be any different?


End file.
